Mistletoe
by ohyellowbird
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Hermione Granger can't sleep. More than a cup of tea awaits her in the kitchen. LEMONS.


Author's Note: This is set in the Trio's seventh year. Sirius did not fall behind the veil, but is still wanted for murder. Now, go!

* * *

It was Christmas Eve at the Black residence. Presents overwhelmed a heavily decorated tree in the sitting room, waiting to be opened in a few hours time. More than a dozen witches and wizards lay fast asleep in their beds. All, except one.

With an old book borrowed from the impressive Black library, Hermione Granger tip-toed down the dusty staircase, careful to hop over the bewitched stair.

The Weasleys, half the Order, Harry, and Hermione had all decided to spend the holidays with Sirius, taking pity on the fact that he was forbidden to leave the safety of his childhood home until proven innocent of his crimes.

Hermione headed into the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea that might coax her back to sleep. Filling a kettle with water and setting it on the stove, she heaved the dusty book onto the kitchen table, searching for where she had left off.

Ever since she was a little girl, Hermione had never been able to sleep on Chrismtas Eve. She supposed it had to do with the stories about Santa Clause that she had reveled in during her youth. Before she had become aware of the Wizarding World, Santa was the only magic she had believed in. And as a young girl, Hermione would have given anything to catch him filling the family stockings. She would stay up all night, hoping to hear footsteps on the roof or shuffling in the living room. But year after year, she would succumb to sleep before catching Santa red-handed.

Of course as a witch of seventeen, Hermione no longer believed in the magic of Santa Clause. She had never found any excerpts pertaining to a large man in a red suit bringing presents to every child in a single night in any of the History of Magic textbooks. But still, something persuaded her to deny herself sleep on these nights.

One hand supporting her weight on the table, Hermione leaned over the text, trying to decipher an ancient rune, heavy curls falling into her face.

She bided her time, waiting for the telltale shrieking of the kettle.

Just as Hermione turned a page, a soft jingling disturbed the silence. The young girl's heart clenched involuntarily. "Santa?" Hermione called out before she could catch herself. There was no response.

Hermione immediately threw one hand over her mouth, chiding herself for being so childish. Of course that wasn't Santa in the sitting room. It was a preposterous notion. But still, her feet carried her to the doorway of the kitchen.

Placing a small hand on the frame, she peered into the family room. Nothing. Grimmauld was still dark and eerie, despite Sirius's attempts to renovate the decaying mansion.

"Lumos," Hermione whispered, having pulled her wand from the waistband of her pale blue pajamas. She crept into the adjacent room, now searching not only for Santa Clause, but for whomever or _whatever _had made that unsettling noise.

She had contemplated sticking her wand into the fireplace just to be sure no one had been there, but concluded that she would die of embarrassment if seen in such a position.

A sudden whistling of the teapot startled the young Gryffinder, forcing her attention back to the kitchen. "Bugger," Hermione whispered, rushing back to the distressed kettle in hopes of keeping it from waking the other guests. But so incredibly flustered, instead of reaching the teapot, Hermione ran straight into the wall.

The wall chuckled, placing two large hands on her shoulders. Wait, the wall _chuckled? _Befuddled, Hermione stepped back and peeked out from under her bangs to find the infamous Sirius Black standing in front of her, a curious smile set upon his handsome face.

She silently thanked Merlin that it was so dark in the house, for a dark blush had blossomed across her cheeks.

"Oh Sirius! I'm so sorry. Heard a noise. It was dark. The kettle-" Her words fell out of her mouth before she could place them into a coherent thought.

Sirius just laughed quietly, placing his hands gently on her upper arms to steady her. "Calm down, kitten. I didn't mean to startle you." He then backed up slowly, making his way over to the stove to silence the whistling kettle.

Hermione remained in the doorway, catching her breath. She watched the older wizard. He was dressed in a simple, white cotton tee that clung to his torso sinfully and maroon drawstring pants. Her eyes drifted from his dark, tousled mane to the faded tattoos that crawled down his limbs.

"Are you going to stand in that doorway all night?" His hushed voice brought her back to reality, and with a sheepish smile, Hermione joined Sirius at the table.

He scooted a mug towards Hermione, her fingertips accidentally ghosting over his as she accepted the cup.

"So, what is a young witch like yourself doing out of bed at this late hour?" Sirius asked, his tongue clucking in jest.

Hermione's fingers strummed against the sides of her mug as she deliberated whether or not to tell him the truth. She could do without his sniggering for the moment. She settled on a vague reply. "I just couldn't sleep. Too eager about tomorrow morning I suppose."

"Really?" Sirius grinned into his tea, his gray eyes dancing. "Because I could have sworn I heard you say the word, Santa." He was unable to suppress a mischievous smile. "Guess it was just my imagination."

_Shit. He knew. _Cheeks burning, Hermione threw her hands over her face. "Sirius, you mustn't tell anybody else about this. Promise!" She pleaded, shaking her head in humiliation, curls flying out dangerously in all directions.

Sirius leaned over the creaking table, pulling Hermione's hands from her face. "Calm down, 'Mione. I'm sure loads of teenage muggles still believe in the fat git. I hope you haven't been too naughty this year." He couldn't help the bark-like laugh that escaped him, or the suggestive waggling of his eyebrows.

"Shut it, you prat!" Hermione growled, ripping her hands from his grasp, folding them defensively across her chest. She stood quickly from the table, nearly knocking over her chair. Fighting tears, Hermione turned away from Sirius, suddenly angry with him for mocking a childhood memory.

But before she was able to abandon Sirius and his snide remarks, he was standing in the doorway, both hands planted on either side of the door frame, effectively blocking her path. "Hermione, wait. I was just teas-"

"I don't expect a _pureblood_ like yourself to understand anything about my _stupid muggle traditions_." Hermione spat, refusing to look at him, but instead staring fixedly at the floorboards. "Please, just let me by." Tears were threatening to leak out of her warm amber eyes.

Just then, a loud pop sounded above the quarrelling witch and wizard, causing them both to look towards the ceiling.

A small, unassuming sprig of mistletoe had just seemingly grown right out of the doorframe.

They both stared on for a moment, perplexed. Followed by Hermione letting loose a string of obscenities under her breath, eyeing the devious little plant.

Sirius continued to stare on in disbelief. He had found himself in a situation he had been thinking about all holiday. Of course he would never act on the fantasies he had been having of the bright, young witch- young enough to be his daughter. These desires had always left him feeling sick and perverse.

Wanting to forgo an awkward moment, Sirius stepped quickly to the side, avoiding Hermione's gaze, and gestured for the young girl to pass by.

But Hermione didn't budge, still gazing up at the mistletoe, chewing her lip.

"Sirius, wait." Her voice was tiny, vulnerable.

She remembered well the superstitions surrounding mistletoe. If a kiss did not take place under the plant, one was sure to have terrible luck, and that was the last thing anyone under this roof needed. With Voldemort back to power and Sirius in hiding, Hermione couldn't risk bringing bad luck to her friends.

After a moment, Hermione continued, "Listen, I know you would rather snog Professor Snape than a bossy little swot like me, but we have to. We're having enough bad luck as it is." Her plea was hardly more than a whisper, her index finger wound tightly into a tendril of hair.

Sirius sighed, clutching the doorframe harder than necessary, his fingertips going white. "Don't be such a child, Hermione. You can't believe something as foolish as that." His voice was harsh, features hardened to mask Sirius's true feelings on the subject. He then stepped back from the young Gryffindor, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from pulling her to him.

A tiny hand reached out for him. "Sirius, please." Hermione's voice was rough, her eyes enormous and filled with tears again.

Sure she was worried about the superstitions surrounding mistletoe, but Hermione had couldn't deny that the thought of tasting him was alluring. She, like nearly every witch in England, had been harboring feelings for the handsome wizard. Ever since they met in the Shrieking Shack, she had been drawn to him. She had admired his devotion to his friends, his wit, and of course, his aristocratic good looks.

Minutes had passed and neither Sirius or Hermione had moved, both careful to avoid the others gaze. The air was thick between them.

Hermione was humiliated. She had only asked the older wizard for a favor, a favor that could help protect the order, and he had rejected her.

Sirius chanced a look at the young witch trembling in front of him. She would take his silence as rejection, when he could hardly contain the desire to kiss her, to feel her soft lips mold against his.

It was when she choked back a sob and whispered, "It's fine, really," that he could no longer deny her. He stepped close to her, tipping her chin up towards him. She peered up at him through thick lashes wet with tears, and with a sad smile, Sirius brushed his rough, cracked lips against her soft, damp ones.

She tasted heavenly, like tea, tears, and something uniquely her. Sirius' other hand slipped behind her neck, pulling her closer to him. He was sure he would never be able to forget the way she tasted, the way she felt.

Just as Sirius swept his tongue across Hermione's lower lip, a pair of small hands pressed against his chest, stilling him. Awaiting his gaze were two huge amber eyes, and Sirius saw immediately that Hermione was waiting for her mind to catch up with her.

Hermione blinked, only half-believing that she was awake. Her face tingled from the dark shadow that lined Sirius's jaw. He was her best friends godfather. Both hands remained on the older wizard's chest, keeping him at arm's length as she stared into his kind grey eyes. She shouldn't be doing this. But it was Christmas. This is why she had been unable to sleep. Santa had sent her an early Christmas present.

Keen to feel Sirius's lips on her own once more, Hermione fisted her hands into his shirt and marched him back against the sitting room wall, pulling him down by the collar for a heated kiss.

Sirius was now kissing her like a man starved, holding her small form to him. His tongue parted her lips as one hand snaked up her back to delve into her thick curls. Hermione's small fingers were now digging into the niche above his clavicles. She met his kisses eagerly, raking her teeth over his bottom lip.

Sirius could only fight back the cloud of lust threatening his sanity for so long, letting out a low growl as Hermione left his mouth, running the bridge of her nose along his jaw.

"I've wanted this for so long, kitten. Seeing you prance about this holiday has been maddening." Sirius breathed his confession, the words hot on Hermione's ear. Her only response was a breathy moan, spurring him on.

In a moment Sirius had exchanged positions with the young witch, her own back forced against the wall now, legs wound tightly about his trim waist. His hands large hands gripped her thighs through the thin material of her pajamas.

Hermione shuddered at the feeling of Sirius's stubble brushing against her jaw as he laved kisses down the side of her neck, nipping her shoulder. She could hardly believe that the Sirius Black was pressed so intimately against her. He could have any witch in London.

Emboldened by the notion that he had chosen her tonight over all others, Hermione pushed Sirius away for a moment, pulling her white camisole over her head in one fluid motion, only to pull him back against her newly bare chest and snake her arms around his neck.

The older wizard gulped audibly, pressing himself involuntarily against Hermione's parted thighs. Hermione had just changed the game. They could have stopped with snogging and maybe forgotten about this whole incident, but not now. There would be no going back to the way things were. Dinners would be different. _They_ would be different.

He was disrupted from his thoughts, Hermione's hand was guiding his own towards her breast, a small smile set upon her flushed face. Sirius cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. "Fuck, princess. You're beautiful." She blushed, curling a tendril of his hair around her index finger. Sirius lowered his head, taking the pink bud of her other breast into his mouth, kneading the first with his hand. Hermione cried out, her head falling back against the wall.

Teasing her with his mouth, Sirius could now smell her arousal, causing his hips to grind more firmly against her own. Hermione whimpered at the welcomed pressure. She was now holding him tighter against her, forcing his hardened length against her center.

Her assertiveness was draining the little will Sirius had left from him. He pulled himself back to his full height, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. Grey met auburn, both heavy-lidded. His breathing was uneven, his breath smelling faintly of tea and cigarettes. "'Mione. I don't want you to feel like..We don't have to do _this_."

Hermione's eyes were now a dark chocolate, her gaze heady. "Sirius." Her voice was tiny again, exposed. "Please."

_Please_. The magic word.

In an instant Hermione's back was off the wall and Sirius was laying her carefully on the lush carpet beneath his feet. He took no time in covering her small, unassuming frame with his own.

Hermione had only felt the weight of one other man before now. And she didn't realize how much she had missed the sensation until Sirius was pressing himself so intimately against her. She felt every worry about the war melt away. All she could focus on was the gorgeous wizard sliding his rough palm down her flat bell, losing all sense or reason when Sirius's fingertips dipped beneath the elastic of her knickers.

He dipped one finger into her, causing a moan to spill form her lips. "Merlin, kitten. You're so wet." Pushing another finger within her, his thumb began drawing lazy circles on her clit. Hermione squirmed under his touch, pulling his face to hers. She pulled at his lower lip with her teeth. Another 'please' passed through her lips.

"Please what, Hermione? What do you want?" His fingers pumped in and out of her, his lips at her ear. "I want to hear you say it."

For a moment she couldn't speak. The unspeakable things he was doing to her had her forgetting how to talk. It was when he applied more pressure to her clit that she was compelled to respond. "I want you. I want you to fuck me. Please, Sirius."

His cock twitched at the highly inappropriate phrase that she had just uttered. Hermione. Gryffindor Princess and brilliant bookworm had just asked him to _fuck her._ He kissed her, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, all the while shucking his pajama pants and boxers. There was now only a tiny piece of cloth keeping them apart. She moved to remove the underwear herself, only to have her hands batted away by the older wizard.

Very carefully, as if she was a sacred being, Sirius looped his fingers into the sides of Hermione's knickers. She lifted her hips to assist him. Slowly, he pulled them down her slender legs, eventually removing them completely and tossing them onto a nearby couch.

Hermione parted her thighs, allowing Sirius to settle between them. Sirius looked down her bare torso to the place where his hips rested against her. He couldn't believe that a goddess such as Hermione would ever consider him. But she had. She wanted this just as much as he did, and it caused him to still for a minute. He lifted his hand to her cheek, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and pressing his lips against her own for a long moment. "You have no idea how beautiful you are, Hermione. Breathtaking even." She could only smile and buck her hips against his painful erection, spurring him on.

He snuck a hand between them, bringing himself to her entrance. Holding her gaze, Sirius slowly pushing inside of her. They both exhaled at the sheer pleasure of finally being joined. Sirius stilled to allow the young witch to get adjusted, but Hermione locked her legs around his waist, forcing him deeper.

His thrusts were slow at first, drawing himself almost completely out of Hermione before sheathing himself inside of her once again. Soon she was pulling his cotton shirt over his head, raking her nails down his chest with every motion.

Sirius could only take it slow for so long, Hermione's inner muscles draining him of all control. It was when he felt himself nearing the edge that his movements became faster. Hermione began meeting him thrust for thrust, her head thrown back in bliss. His hand had snuck between their bodies once more and was now applying pressure to her sensitive bud, causing her back to bow.

It was Hermione who was dragged over the edge first. She chewed at her lip, keening, a bright light bursting behind her eyelids. Her muscles milked Sirius, ripping his own orgasm from him. He pumped his hips into hers sporadically, uttering a contraceptive charm before spilling within her.

Sirius rolled off of Hermione, only to pull her to him and drape a hand over her flat belly. He buried his head in her hair, breathing in her intoxicating scent mixed with sex. She snuggled against him, resting her hand against his.

It would make for an interesting Christmas morning if the other houseguests were to find them snuggled under the tree. They would have to get up soon, but neither could pull themselves from the moment just yet.

"Merry Christmas," A sleepy Hermione whispered, rubbing her backside teasingly against him and smiling into the darkness.

Sirius swept Hermione's hair away from her face, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. "Ho Ho Ho."


End file.
